i woke up with my back soaking wet and freezing cold. begrudgingly, i turn over to find i had spilt my bong whilst sleeping. great, i'm going to stink like bong water. almost falling, i make my way out of bed in search for my sorry excuse for jeans. i only took them off last night i can't see how the universe could have swallowed them already.
blood started trickling out of my finger, jumping ship from my body like i often wished to do myself. i put my finger in my mouth and suck the metallic ooze off. i've sewn a dozen patches onto my jeans but i never fail to injure myself in the process. i'm starting to wonder if it's some sort of unconscious decision or whether i'm just stupid for not using an embroidery circle. this time i added a patch with the image of a wilted flower, i could try to find the words to describe what it means but it's more of a feeling. a poetic feeling that's better enjoyed than explained. i suppose the best explanation would be i saw a bit of myself in that flower, or maybe a bit of everyone.
i could never leave the house without my headphones although they creek and moan under any pressure. they are old but they haven't given up yet. that's the thing with older technology, they somehow last. i can't update them because if they have fought for so long to keep going, what kind of monster would i be to give up on them. so i place them on my skull and appreciate them for sticking with me for so long. plus, they act as a kind of hair band to keep my shaggy hair out of my mouth. a single gust of wind and i'm left spluttering. i can deal with my hair being over my eyes but my mouth is plain insufferable.
the last on the essentials list were my gloves. unlike my headphones and jeans they aren't full of character. these are just simple fingerless gloves that i can never tell if they shrunk in the wash or not. i'm told they make me look homeless, mixed with the ripped up jeans and flannel i famously wear. i never know what people mean when they comment that on my appearance, like i look somehow less than others because i look homeless. they claim to be nice people but find themselves saying backwards shit that they won't take two seconds to think twice about. yes i look homeless, but if you change the way you talk to me based on that fact then i don't want you in my life anyhow.
on the way out of the house i without thinking look at myself in the mirror. i never quite look how i imagine i do in my head. i've tried to put a name on this phenomenon but whenever i get close i change the subject. the only feature i enjoy looking at is my nose. i was told once that i have an illusion of a nose, that it looks small from the front but it's large from the side. many would take offence to this comment coming from a friend you weren't sure was your friend in the first place. but my nose i was proud of, i think it's the most me thing about my face. i've always thought i looked quite bare and tried to fix that with makeup, but i quickly found makeup didn't fit the hole. my eyes wander to my top lip. so barren but no sane person-like-me would wish to find something there surely. before i think about it too much i turn to the door, unlock my carabiner to get my keys, and go outside.
